Page 1 of Haunted Hearts

Chapter1

WILLOW

The living cannot survive in the Realm of the Dead.

I assume that the horrible, gut-wrenching agony of my skin shrinking, blood freezing, bones becoming brittle, and organs shutting down are the consequences that come to those still alive when they enter this realm. Ishouldbe dead on arrival, so the realm is just doing its part to make sure that I am, in fact, dead.

That I can understand.

What I cannot fathom, however, is why the decay of my body painfully reverses just before I succumb to death. Just as my vision fades, my last breath is taken, and the beating of my heart comes to a grinding halt, a horrific flare of heat burns through my veins. Each time I am revived, shuddering through the relief of not being deadyet, I catch glimpses of the barren world around me. Dust and dirt, tumbleweeds and sparse dried-up plants spread across a wide expanse of land. There are clay plateaus far in the distance and dry, cracked earth beneath theUtikyie’sarmored feet as it carries me to some unknown destination. Above us, ominous dark clouds block out whatever light the Realm of the Dead may provide.

During my body’s struggle between life and death, time ceases to mean anything. I could be unconscious for mere moments, or for hours, I’m not sure. During stretches of time where I am conscious, I scream. Not out loud. I’m much too weak for that, and too afraid of the fragility of the bones in my jaw to try to muster up any true sound. But internally, I scream freely. I scream in pain, in terror, at the injustice of it all, and with all the anguish I can muster, I scream out my heartache.

My men are in trouble. I did all that I could to give them a way out of Everlast, but did they make it? If they did, they must be suffering now. With me in a different realm, the chance of survival for them would be minimal. They’ll die without my pieces of their souls. Then, the four of them will be stuck in the Realm of the Living, unable to cross over, just like all the other souls.

My internal screaming only ceases when I lose consciousness.

A bout of time passes in darkness before my body again reverses its decaying process. As I come to, I realize there is no hard jostling as theUtikyiecarries me through the Realm of the Dead. The freezing air is no longer whipping across my face. It has settled around me, numbing my limbs and icing my veins. For whatever reason, this is still not enough to end my suffering.

Please, someone just kill me.

A few tears blur my vision. They barely manage to break free before freezing onto my cheek. I blink the rest away before they too can linger. As my vision clears, I realize that I’ve been placed in some sort of grave. Rising around me, framing the dark sky, are four walls of dirt. Am I about to be buried alive? Instead of fear, I’m relieved. The idea of suffocating under a pile of dirt isn’t how I envisioned my death, but I suppose in this situation beggars can’t be choosers.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good.”

A male voice comes from somewhere above me. I work hard to focus on the shadow that appears. It takes me a moment to realize that he’s not all that far above me. The man has a long salt-and-pepper beard, untamed and soiled, that hangs down into the grave I occupy. His wild eyebrows, dirty face and shaggy long hair gives him a mountain-man-meets-diabolical-scientist appearance. His flesh is tinted blue, frost clings to his face, and his skin looks puckered and withered.

Without any introduction, I know who this is: Fulton.

“Don’t fret Miss Harvest, you won’t be down there for long,” he assures me with a grin that should terrify me.

I’m not fretting, as he suggests, I’m suffering. There is most certainly a difference. I can feel my skin beginning to shrink again and breathing is becoming increasingly difficult. Soon, I’ll begin to shrivel up like a raisin. I need to do something.

The man above me throws a handful of what appears to be rice at me. It bounces off my body harmlessly. When nothing happens right away, I ignore it and the warlock and try to use my power to call out for help. I won’t have long before the agony overwhelms me too much to focus but at least for the moment, I’m able to remind myself that I’m not completely helpless.

Or so I thought.

My power is like a spark that won’t catch. It scatters uselessly around me in the grave before flickering out. Normally, I’d panic. Before I can, however, I lose focus as my heart stutters and my eyes sink into my skull. I gape like a fish as my lungs deflate. My muscles contract painfully and my body curls in on itself. As the pain becomes too much and I fall towards unconsciousness, I feel the ground around me begin to tremble and shake.

Then, still stuck in this horrific cycle that I cannot break, my muscles rejuvenate and relax, air reinflates my lungs, and my eyes rise back to where they belong. As the pain only mildly recedes, I begin to focus on my surroundings once more. Something is wrapping around my ankles and wrists, torso and neck. At first, I think perhaps I’m in a pit of snakes, but the rough texture doesn’t feel like scales. Whatever has a hold of me, lifts me off the trembling ground. I would have screamed as the binds tighten painfully around me, but my throat is squeezed shut. Will my neck snap under the pressure?

Oh, please break, I beg as I suffocate.

Strange, eerie moans and groans echo around me as I’m lifted out of the grave, past the wild looking man, and then further upwards another few feet, until I come to a stop. More bindings wrap around each leg, not to bring them together, but simply to hold me in a painful embrace. Next, my arms are pulled outwards. Something slithers across and around my chest, creating what feels like a harness. The trembling of the ground is felt through my restraints. Whatever has me around the neck loosens slightly. My head droops down as I struggle weakly for air. With my head now free to rotate, I can take in my surroundings better. Nearby, sevenUtikyiehave created a loose circle around me and Fulton. Between them are massive purple quartzes that are pulsating with a bright glow.

What in the hell is going on? I look down to see what has a hold of me.

Wrapped around my body are limbs of a thick white tree that has grown up out of the grave I had just been lying in. The trunk of the tree forms around me, encasing me in the middle of an alcove, while bare, thick branches grow out from the sides and high above me. The root system rumbles as it grows and spreads outwards, breaking free from the clay ground here and there as it finds a hold wherever it can.

“Look at this, Miss Harvest! Look at what you are helping me create!” Fulton shouts up at me, his hand waving at the tree I’m trapped in as it continues to grow thicker and taller. “With your power, this masterpiece will be the thing I need in order to achieve greatness!”

I’m incapable of a single train of thought, let alone forming words to produce a smart-alecky remark. The pain of dying comes creeping forward. I can’t escape it. Again, I scream internally. This time I can’t stop the tears from leaking free. The sharp pain as they freeze to my skin is nothing compared to everything else.

The branches that hold me in place begin to tremble. Thorns sprout and stab into the skin all over my body, drawing blood. But they don’t just stop there. They continue to lengthen, drive into my veins, and take root where they can. From my cheeks all the way to my toes, there isn’t a single place on my body that doesn’t get stabbed.

All I can muster is a soft moan.

“Once the tree has your life essence and your power, I will be able to tap into its sap and have access to all three realms. I’ll be unstoppable,” Fulton laughs as he claps his hands together. “Five years I’ve worked to harness Death Magic, and soon, I’ll have it!”

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